


Say You Love Me

by pai_n



Category: SMPLive, Video Blogging RPF, Wilbur Soot - Fandom, jschlatt - Fandom
Genre: AU, Abuse, Alternate Universe, Angst, BDSM, Blood, Bondage, Eventual Smut, I’m so sorry guys, Jschlatt doesn’t deserve this, Kidnapping, M/M, Rape/Non-con - Freeform, Slow Burn, Stockholm Syndrome, Wilbur is a dick, Wilbur is evil, bottom!jschlatt, dark!Wilbur, kidnap, some violence, top!Wilbur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:28:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22381849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pai_n/pseuds/pai_n
Summary: He lets go of my throat and kisses it softly, then runs his hands through my hair and whispers in my ear, his voice low and dangerous.“It’s ok, Schlatt. It’ll all be ok. I’m going to make you love me.”
Relationships: Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot, Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot
Comments: 204
Kudos: 1054





	1. Awake

**Author's Note:**

> hey there! this is my first published story on AO3 and I’m not really used to the site yet, so forgive me if I make some mistakes. Oh, and of course, I’m not basing this off of either of their actual personalities. This is just a little wild fanfiction in a jungle full of other wild fanfictions.

_Finally _, another long day of streaming and editing packed in the bag. I yawn, glancing at the time, and stretch my arms over my head. It’s around midnight... better than most nights, I suppose. I decide to check my emails one last time before going to bed. Scrolling quickly through the long list of messages, I see way too many emails consisting of “click this link and get $20 off your first purchase!” And “50% off storewide, final sale!” A lot of it was spam, and even more was just websites I never bothered to unsubscribe to. One thing does catch my eye, however. A fan had sent me a video. That alone was pretty normal. The odd thing was, this video was titled “I’m watching you, Schlatt. I know where you are, and I’m coming for you.” When I click it, it just shows a black screen.__

___Well that’s fucking creepy. ____ _

____It’s probably just some rouge fan trying to get my attention. I’ve never given away my house address to anyone other than my close friends so there’s no way a person is really here, watching me. Still, a message like that is bound to get anyone paranoid, even if I know it’s not possible. I hastily walk to my blinds and shut them tight, then I do a quick lap around my house and make sure all my doors are locked. Perfect. The only people who have my house key are a couple of my most trusted friends, since I sometimes come home drunk, realize I lost my key, and can’t get in. It happens too often to be healthy. After my little home lockdown quest is complete, I turn out the lights. Curling into bed, I find my eyes won’t close. They can’t stop watching the door, as if I expect to see someone run in. Finally, after a few sleepless hours of overthinking and staring at the door nonstop, I drift into restless dreams._ _ _ _

____When I wake up, I’m no longer in my bed. There’s a hard chair underneath me and my limbs feel weak, almost unresponsive. My head is pounding and my vision is too dark. As my tired brain begins to turn on, I realize my vision is dark because there’s a blindfold tied tightly around my eyes. Hard rope digs into my wrists and legs, both bound tightly to the chair._ _ _ _

_____Oh God, where the hell am I? Am I still dreaming? I have to be! FUCK, WHERE AM I?_ _ _ _ _

______I’m hyperventilating, trying to breathe but nothing is going into my lungs. My head still hurts so badly, I can’t think straight with it feeling like there’s a thousand hammers being hit against my skull._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Where am I? Who are you? What do you want from me? Is it money? My channel? We can figure something out, please, just let me go!”_ _ _ _ _ _

______I cry out, trying to get someone, ANYONES attention. I can’t tell how big this room is, and maybe I’m just shouting to myself, but I need someone to hear me. I fall silent, feeling tears run down my cheeks and off of my chin as I sob quietly. After a few seconds, I hear footsteps sounding like they’re coming downstairs ahead of me. I hold my breath and try to stop my tears. If I seem weak my kidnapper will use that against me. A door in front of me creaks open and even through my blindfold I see a shaft of light flood in. Then it disappears as the door swings shut again, leaving me and my kidnapper by ourselves._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Please” I call out, my voice raspy from crying. “I’ll give you money, or a shoutout, or whatever you want. I don’t care. Just let me go. This is insane!”_ _ _ _ _ _

______I should have probably left out the last part, but I’ve just been kidnapped and I’m at the end of my fucking rope here. What the hell did I do to deserve this? I hear the person laugh, and I immediately know he’s male. I almost feel like I recognize that laugh, but my head is still pounding too much to think. I just can’t put my finger on it._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Whatever I want, huh Schlatt? I want you. Ever since I met you, I’ve wanted you. You make me go crazy. If anything, this is your fault. The way you talk to me, the way you lead me on… it’s almost like you wanted this to happen.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______I know that voice.. I hear that voice everyday, through streams and voice chats and dinners with my friends. But it can’t be him. He would never do this. This can’t be fucking happening. Maybe I’m still dreaming._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Hey Schlatt? You home?” He laughs again, and I know it’s him. My body is shaking too much and I feel myself start to hyperventilate again. I thought I could trust him. We’ve been friends for so long. Was it all a lie?_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Wilbur, you fucking bastard, let me go.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______I sound a lot braver than I feel. That’s good._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I don’t think I will, Schlatt. Deep down, I know you wanted this all along. You didn’t have to say it, you showed it through what you did. I love you. Now tell me, Tell me you feel the same way I do. I know you want to.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______I’m absolutely disgusted. This asshole wants me to tell him I love him? He can go to Hell._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I don’t love you, Wilbur. Sure, I thought you were a good friend, but I never loved you. And now, I fucking despise you. Is that what you wanted to hear? What the hell is wrong with you? Let me fucking go already!”_ _ _ _ _ _

______I find myself screaming the last part. All the rage that’s been building up inside me is finally released, but I don’t feel any better. I’m still stuck in this shitty situation, and Wilbur is still fucking crazy._ _ _ _ _ _

______Right as I open my mouth to tell him I hate him again, I feel his cold hand grab my jaw as his other hand comes out and slaps my face, hard. A sharp pain blossoms on my cheek and lips. I taste blood, metallic and raw. I cry out in shock and pain and then his lips are on mine, soft and strangely gentle. But his hands aren’t gentle, and they wrap themselves around my throat. I choke, but he doesn’t take his lips off mine and his hands don’t move from my throat. I feel his tongue exploring my mouth as I sit slack jawed, trying to get any air that I can. Finally, when my lungs feel like they’re about to burst, he lets go of my throat and kisses it softly, then runs his hands through my hair and whispers in my ear, low and dangerous._ _ _ _ _ _

______“It’s ok, Schlatt. It’ll all be ok. I’m going to make you love me.”_ _ _ _ _ _


	2. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okkkkk, please keep in mind this is a complete work of fiction and bears no resemblance to the actual Wilbur and Jschlatt. Also, never harass people to date, even if you ship them. This has been my PSA, enjoy chapter 2

He left after that, leaving me blindfolded and tied up in this cold, empty room, with nothing but my mind to keep me company. I keep thinking over and over again, “why did I trust him? Why did I believe him when he said he was my friend?” I can’t help but partly blame myself for this; after what he said about me leading him on with my actions I find myself wracking my head and playing back every meaningful conversation I’ve ever had with him, picking out pieces that could be mistaken for something different, romantic even. I start to fall deeper and deeper into this well of self-loathing and regret, cursing at myself for every decision I’ve made, when I hear the door open again. Immediately, I go from hating myself to hating the man I know is in front of me, the man who was taunting me and touching me and telling me he loved me while he hurt me. I almost don’t want him to take off this blindfold and let me see his face, because if I do that means this is all real and I can’t hide from him anymore.

“Schlatt, you look upset. Here, I’ll take this off, ok? It’s going to be a little bright for you so don’t open your eyes too fast.”

His words are too kind for someone so crazy. He’s acting like he always did before, understanding and caring; but I fear if I say the wrong thing he’ll hurt me again. I’m walking on eggshells and I’m scared I might die if they break. He takes the blindfold off of me, and even though the room is grey and shadowy, I have to squeeze my eyes shut for a few seconds to adjust. When I can finally open them, I see I’m in a basement, but it’s much larger than I expected; almost like a garage or large living room. It has actual things in it too, like a coffee table and a rug and even a TV and a computer, tucked in a dark corner of the room. I look at Wilbur, who’s now sitting on a light blue couch in the middle of the room.

“What do you want from me, Wilbur? Listen, I’ll say I love you. I love you! There! Will you please let me out of here now? You’re not acting like yourself, you know. This isn’t the person I was friends with before.”

I feel like I’m pleading with a brick wall. He doesn’t look impressed, or even remotely happy about me telling him I love him. I suppose, to be fair, I didn’t mean it and it didn’t sound like I meant it. But I don’t know what he wants me to do. I can’t fake love for a man who’s kidnapped me and put me in his basement.

“Schlatt, what am I going to do with you?”

He sighs, then gets up off the couch and walks towards me. When he gets to me, he grabs a handful of my hair in his hands and pulls it back, not yanking it but pulling hard enough to make my head go back despite my resistance to him. I’m forced to look up into his eyes, and as soon we make eye contact he smiles and startes talking again.

“Look at you, being so helpless. You act like a big tough guy online, but you’re not so tough here, are you?”

He loosened his grip a little absentmindedly, and I pulled out of his grasp. For a few seconds I was free, until he got another fistful of my hair. This time he did yank it, making me cry out in pain as he forced me to look up again. Now he looked slightly annoyed.

“You can’t get away from this, you know. You can’t get away from me. You’re gonna stay with me until you truly love me, whatever it takes.” He tells me, keeping a tight grip in my hair.

“Your logic is fucked, you asshole.” I reply angrily, glaring daggers at him since it’s the only thing I’m able to do. He laughs, and bends down so he’s face to face with me. Letting go of my hair, his hands instead go on my thighs, and he looks at me smiling. I used to think that smile was adorable. Now it just seems like the smile of a madman.

“You’re so cute when you’re angry.” Is all he said, before standing up again and turning around. I didn’t want to be left alone again! Plus I really had to pee.

“Wait! Wait, Wilbur!”

He turns around at me, clearly confused.

“I’ve been sitting here for hours now, and I really gotta pee. Can you untie me? I promise I won’t do anything.”

He doesn’t look super sure, but he walks back over.

“How about this: I’ll untie your feet and your hands from the chair, but I’m keeping your hands tied behind your back. That way you can’t try to pull anything.”

He still didn’t seem super confident but that sounded good enough for me.

“Yeah, sure, if that’s what makes you feel better.” I honestly really had to pee at this point and he was taking his good old fucking time.

“Ok, let’s go then.”

He unties my feet, and changes the rope so it’s just around my wrists and not around the chair as well. He walks next to me, leading me by my arm up the stairs. When we reach the top, I almost gasp. I knew we were in a basement but I didn’t really connect the dots that a basement implies there’s a house above it. It was fucking huge. Sometimes I forget that Wilbur has money, and can buy stuff like this. He always seemed so childish. Until this happened, of course. I try to look around a little, but Wilbur is hastily pulling me to his huge bathroom. It’s about the size of my living room, with a huge bathtub, a long wide shower, and a million different bottles of all shapes and sizes. I try not to look around in awe.

“Ok, I'm gonna untie your hands for this, but don’t even think about trying anything. Oh, and don’t worry, I won’t watch you, I’m not into that.”

He turns around (thank god) and I finally pee. I don’t want to try anything now anyway, not when he’s right in front of the door. Once done, I turn around again and look around the bathroom, this time not hiding my awe since Wilbur is still looking away,

“Why do you have such a giant bathroom?” I inquire as nonchalantly as possible once he turns to face me again.

“I don’t know, it just came with the house. Come on, we’re going back downstairs.” He says passively as he ties my arms back behind me.

Fuck. The thought of going back onto that hard, uncomfortable chair in that cold dark basement after seeing all this makes me genuinely want to cry. I look at Wilbur with my most pleading eyes.

“Wilbur, please, it’s horrible having to sit in that chair down there. If you want me to like you can’t you at least let me sit comfortably?” It’s a bit ballsy… I hope he doesn’t notice I’m using his own “make you love me” card against him.

He looks at me for a few seconds, as though trying to figure something out, then finally says

“ok, you don’t have to sit in the chair. But we’re going back into the basement, and that’s final. There’s plenty of other seats in there.” I want to argue more, but he’s got a look in his eye when he turns to me that makes me feel uneasy. Anyway, I’ve been risky enough for today, I don’t want to take it too far and end up getting hurt.

When we get back to the basement, I hear the door shut and then a soft click. I hope he didn’t just lock us in here. Either way, I’m just happy I don’t have to sit in this chair anymore. As revenge, I kick it as hard as I can and it goes flying into the wall. One of the legs even bends a little. Damn, that felt good. I freeze when I feel Wilburs arms drape around my shoulders from behind me. 

“You know, I still kinda needed that chair” he mumbled, resting his head on top of mine (did I mention this man is really goddamn tall?)

“Oops, sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

I do know exactly why I did that. I did it because I hate that stupid chair, and this basement, and Wilbur who won’t stop fucking touching me even though I’m clearly uncomfortable and upset. It was almost as though Wilbur read my mind, because he took a step back. It probably also helped that he could see my fingernails digging into my hand so hard there was blood. He sighed, walked to the door, unlocked it, and left. 

That was weird. I didn’t expect him to just… go like that. I’m not complaining though, I can take this time to look around the room and see if there’s anything that can help me get the fuck out of here. It’s all pretty useless looking in terms of breaking out of your crazy ex-friends basement, but there is some cool stuff down here. I notice all the furniture and even the computer and other tech looks brand new, like he bought it shortly before I arrived. He must have been planning this out for a while… the thought terrifies me, how I was streaming and laughing and hanging out with the same guy that was making plans to kidnap me. I shiver a little at the awfulness of it all, and go to sit down on the couch so maybe I can actually be somewhat comfortable for once today. It’s a super nice couch.I grab the throw that’s draped over the couch and wrap it around myself, suddenly feeling exhausted. Before long, my eyes start to shut, and despite my fears that he’ll come back and do something to me while I’m not awake, I manage to fall into a light sleep.


	3. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur is a dick and Jschlatt just wants to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, this is in an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE and not at all based off the actual Wilbur and Schlatt. Also if they ever read this I will genuinely end my life.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: this chapter has blood and cutting (with a knife) in it, it’s not super graphic but it is there. So don’t read if that makes you queasy or uncomfortable.
> 
> Ya yeet

Once again, I wake up to the sound of the door creaking open.   


I watch as Wilbur walks in and spots me on the couch. He begins to head towards me with that same strange look in his eye. I don’t want him any closer to me than he already is. I quickly sit up and throw the blanket that was previously on me at him, and I’m not sure what my goal is, but I don’t want that fucker anywhere near me and this was all I could think of on the spot. He stops, chuckles, and picks the blanket up.

“Schlatt, what are you doing?” He jokingly asks, as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box.

“Trying to keep you away from me, you british fuck” I reply back, not joking at all. “What’s in that box?”

He opens it up and for a second I’m terrified; he could pull anything out of that box to use against me and i'd be powerless to stop him. Then it’s revealed... and he brought me a band-aid. A fucking band-aid. For my hand when I dug my nails into it.   
  


“What the _fuck_? I don’t need a band-aid. You don’t deserve to give me nice things, Wilbur. Because you know what? This whole thing you’re doing is fucking horrible. You’re fucked up, you know that, right? Stop trying to pretend you’re the good guy here. If you were truly good you wouldn't have kidnapped me in the first goddamn place.”

His small smile never leaves his face; If anything, it seems to grow wider.

“I know you’re upset, Schlatt. I understand. This must be very stressful for you. It’s OK though, because I'm going to take care of you. You don’t need to worry. I’ll only punish you if you deserve it, to help you learn what’s good and bad. I’ll never hurt you if you’re good.”

“I’m going to end up getting hurt, Wilbur, because your definitions of “good and bad” are clearly fucking crooked.”

Wilbur laughs and strides over, until he’s standing right above me. He looks down at me, and I stare defiantly back at him. If he thinks he can scare me just because he’s taller and has higher ground in this situation, he’s fucking wrong. He underestimates my emotional strength; i’m filled with unquenchable fury everytime I look at him or hear his stupid laugh. That rage isn’t something that can just be cast aside. 

“It almost sounds like you want me to hurt you, Schlatt. Is that what you’ve been craving this whole time? To be mistreated until you can’t tell the difference between right or wrong, sinful or sacred? I can give that to you. I can give you anything you want. All you have to do is ask.”

“Well then i’m _ asking _ for you to fucking let me go, Wilb-”

I feel a hard fist connect to my stomach before I can even finish his name. Red dots fill my vision as I cry out, doubling over in agony. Quickly grabbing my face, he lands another hit right under my eye, making it swell up with tears as a new pain erupts. I groan and try to pull away, but he climbs on top of me and pins me to the couch. My hands are completely useless, still tied tight behind my back, and the rest of my body won’t move; it’s trapped under his weight. I freeze as I feel sharp, cold metal skate down my cheek and onto my neck.   
  


“Oh Schlatt, my love, you have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into. I came prepared for this, you know. I can tear your skin apart and admire every scar I create. I can hurt you until every breath you take is agony and you beg me to kill you. Or I can kiss you, touch you, not do anything but love you, and I’ll put this knife aside. It’s your choice, Schlatt. You choose between pain or pleasure.”

“You can’t fucking control me, Wilbur.” I gasp out, feeling as the knife presses a little harder onto my neck. “You won’t kill me, you couldn’t do it if your life depended on it.   
I’m. Not. Fucking. Scared. Of. You. And I don’t love you. If you truly did love me, you wouldn’t do this to me.”

“Wrong answer.” Wilbur spits out, and I feel the knife drag down from the bottom of my neck onto my chest. After cutting my shirt off, he brings it back to my chest and puts on more pressure. I scream in pain as the knife digs into my skin. He drags it down, creating a shallow but agonizingly painful cut from my chest to my stomach. When I look down, all I see is red. 

“Why can’t you just  _ fucking  _ love me, Schlatt? Is it really that hard to do? You would choose this over me? You’re clearly the only fucked up one here. But if this is what you want, then I’m sure as hell going to deliver.”

With that, he puts his hand over the long cut on my chest and presses down as hard as he can. I cry out in anguish as a burning sensation erupts in my stomach and courses through the rest of my body. It hurts so  _ goddamn _ much. Tears are running down my face; I’m crying and I just can’t seem to make myself stop. Finally, Wilbur takes his hand off the wound and wipes the blood onto his shirt, staining the blue cotton with a dark, thick red. He pulls out a bandaid, barely the size of my thumb, and puts it on the still-bleeding cut. It doesn’t cover most of the injury, but he doesn’t seem to care. He looks at my face one last time. My eyes are bloodshot and filled with tears; his are dark and threatening. Then he turns around, walks to the door, and leaves; leaving me here still sobbing in the dark. 


	4. Stream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur and Jschlatt go live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of stuff happens in this chapter, so read until the end!

It’s not until hours later that I finally stop crying, the once harsh sobs fading into little whimpers and sniffs. At least the cut has stopped bleeding, so I rip his stupid little bandage off with my teeth and spit it weakly at the door.

“Fuck you, Wilbur Soot!”

It feels good to yell out my anger, though my chest seizes up in fear at the thought of him coming back in from the noise. I decide I’ve said enough for now anyway: yelling isn't going to help me escape, so why bother? Unfortunately, I still can’t see anything I could use to help me get out of here… at the very least, I need to get my hands untied. Of course, he took his knife with him, so that’s not an option. But the chair I threw has got some sharp edges, and that might be all I need. 

I feel like I’m walking on glass, tiptoeing from the couch to the destroyed chair as quietly as I possibly can. It’s not like he could hear me walking around from upstairs, but I’m not about to take any chances. This man is clearly messed up in the head, and I don’t want him back down here anytime soon. 

The chair does have some sharp edges, _hallelujah_. I turn around, position my arms the right way, and push the rope down onto the jagged pieces of wood. I swear I’ve never felt more relieved in my life than I feel when I hear a sawing noise, and soon my arms fall to my side with rope still hanging off them. Here we go boys, Schlatt’s back in business; this time, he’s here to fucking win.

With a newfound determination, I run around the walls (quietly, of course) and feel them for any sort of weakness. Nothing. I expected as much. Obviously, I’m not giving up hope yet, so I go to the computer in the corner and see if that turns on. Whatdya know, it actually does! After I press the power button on the back, it makes a startup noise that almost causes me to throw the noisy bastard across the room. Why does it have to be so _loud?_ Then the desktop is up, and I quickly calm down as the blue light from the screen dances on my exhausted face. 

I stare blankly at the screen for a few seconds, processing what’s in front of me. Then my eyes catch on a symbol, and I realize it’s discord, and holy shit, this could save me. I grab the mouse and in a heartbeat I’m there, skimming the long list of friends Wilbur has for a familiar name. I see callmecarson. That’s perfect, maybe he’ll know what to do. I’m about to click on it, I’m so close, I’m finally gonna _escape,_

then I feel a hand on my shoulder.

I let out a scream; not really from fear, but from the shock of being snuck up on like that. The hand tightens for a second, then loosens again as the person behind me (presumably Wilbur) lets out a quiet giggle.

“I see you’ve discovered the computer,” he mumbles, his voice sounding soft and yet so very dangerous.

“I wasn’t gonna do anything, I was just.. just..”

As I stumble for a decent excuse, I feel his eyes bore into the back of my head.

“What? What _exactly_ were you trying to do? From what I’m seeing, it looks an awful lot like you were trying to message Carson. Is that what you were trying to do? Hm, Schlatt?”

“No!” I lie, and the word comes out a lot harder than I expected. “I wasn’t trying to do anything! I was just bored, ok? You’ve kept me down here with nothing to do. I wasn’t going to tell him anything, I swear. And even if I did, he would think I was joking. You know that.”

It’s partially true, when I think about it. Even if I had messaged Carson, it’s not like he would’ve believed me; at least not right away. “Wilbur kidnapped me and is trapping me in his basement right now” is right along the lines of the kind of thing I would say as a joke. I mentally curse myself for being the boy who cried wolf, now that I actually need someone to believe me. 

“Schlatt, you’re a terrible liar, did you know that? It’s ok. I won’t hurt you. I think you’ve learned enough lessons for today.”

As he speaks, his hand reaches down and then up under my shirt, tracing the still fresh cut. I visibly shiver and he chuckles, but he doesn’t remove his hand.

“How about instead, we do something I know you’ll enjoy?”

Oh god, I don’t like the sounds of that.

He reaches over to the mouse, and I desperately want to run, but his body is leaning over me and trapping me here with him. He’s exiting discord ( _my freedom)_ and instead clicking on… Twitch. Huh? What?? Are we gonna watch some streams together or something? What the hell is he doing? I watch as the mouse hesitates on the front page, and I wait for him to click one of the featured streamers… but then his mouse goes to his own account and I watch in shock as he hovers over “Go Live.”

“What the fuck are you doing, Wilbur??”

I didn’t mean to say anything. I really didn’t. If anything, he _should_ go live, so I can try and tell the viewers that something is wrong (I don’t imagine he’ll let me say it directly, but I can try to figure out a way), yet when I think of going live like this, my face burns in shame. I look like shit. I’m bruised and exhausted. I probably look both terrified and terrifying. And anyway, why does _Wilbur_ want to livestream? Isn’t he compromising everything if he does that? I don’t understand what the fuck is going on or why it’s going on.

“Listen to me, Schlatt. The viewers are getting worried. They haven’t heard from either of us for too long. Obviously, I’m not going to leave you alone, so we have to stream together. Here’s what’s going to happen: you’re going to act normal, you’re going to joke and banter with me like nothing is going on, and you and I are going to play this minecraft challenge together. You don’t want to know what’ll happen if you don’t listen to me. You got it?” 

He locks eyes with me, and the look in his eye tells me exactly what I need to know: he’s hurt me before, and he’s not at all hesitant to do it again. So I sigh, nod my head, and watch as he sets up the stream. I try to get into the right headspace, but it’s hard when the person you’re streaming with is also your kidnapper and abuser. Still, faking a smile is a lot easier than being hurt again, so I buckle up and as soon as the recording light turns on and we start the challenge, I’m back to being the ruthless funny businessman my fans know and love. At first they comment about my appearance and why I left for so long, but I brush off their questions with some jokes and they seem to settle down. It’s hard for me to calm down at first, as the jokes Wilbur tells (despite actually being funny) are almost impossible for me to genuinely laugh at anymore. Yet, it gets easier. I slip into my persona and get lost in the banter and jokes, letting myself forget about the current problem at hand and finally relax for the first time in days. It feels amazing.

  
It seems like it hasn't even been an hour since we started recording, but when Wilbur finally says goodbye, I see it’s actually been three. I realize I got so lost in the recording I forgot to try and ask for help. Shit. As soon as the recording stops, we both fall into complete silence, and I feel myself snap back to reality as my eyes slide across the room and take in everything again. It feels like the moment after you finish reading a great book. You look up, and feel a sharp disappointment that you’re not actually there in the book; instead, you’re stuck here in your boring life. Or in my case, I’m stuck in a basement with a crazy guy I used to call my friend.

Wilbur breaks the silence when he gets up, ruffles my hair playfully, and walks over to the couch. Nothing is said, but his footsteps bounce loudly off the stone walls and jolt me out of my train of thought. He flops down on the couch and turns on the TV, illuminating the room in light blue. Soon, Netflix is pulled up, and I watch as he selects a random horror movie from the catalog. _Why_ must he watch a horror movie, when he knows I’m gonna be down here all night, in a creepy old basement _,_ by _myself_? Fucking bastard.   
  


He motions me to the couch, and since I can still feel the cut stinging under my shirt, I elect to listen to him and walk over. I sit down as far from him as I possibly can on the small couch, but he just moves closer, wrapping his arm around my shoulder while some teens sneak into an abandoned mall on the screen. I want to be uncomfortable and pissed off, I really do, but I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open and Wilbur is giving off a lot of body heat with the thick hoodie he’s wearing, so I let my body relax a little and lean against his warm shoulder, closing my overworked eyes. It feels too good to resist. The screams of the people on screen become simple background noise. I fight against the fear, against the logic, against _everything_ in my head, and instead listen to my body’s desperate urge for sleep.

  
  
  


In the morning, I’m alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Please, comment if there’s anything you want to me to add, any suggestions, or just something random you want to say to me. I appreciate everyone who reads, leaves kudos, comments, or does all of the above. Thank you guys!


	5. Apples

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this when I was sick, so my apologies for any mistakes and for the long wait.

Wilbur comes back down at 11am on the dot. I know because there’s an ugly vintage clock on the wall with the loudest damn ticking I have ever heard. I mean, it’s nice to know how much time has passed in this hellhole, sure, but the object that tells me makes me want to bash my head against a fucking wall. I’m ignoring Wilbur’s presence for now and glaring at this clock instead. For once, he isn’t the most annoying thing in the room. 

“Hey Schlatt, I brought you an apple. I know last time you said you weren’t hungry, but it’s close to lunch now and you gotta eat. It’s been days since I last saw you having a meal. You’re going to get sick, and I can’t have that happening. This is just a small thing. So eat it.”

Annnd I changed my mind. I don’t give a damn about the clock anymore. This man standing in front of me with a single red apple looking so _fucking_ concerned has once again taken the lead in the “how much can you piss off Schlatt” compitition. What an achievement. I could almost cry. Oh wait, I have cried. I guess Wilbur here just has that kind of effect on people. Especially when he kidnaps them and keeps them in his basement for days. So amazing.

Wilbur’s still staring at me, clearly expecting a response or something, so I tell him to go fuck himself. If he really thinks I’m going to bow low enough to accept _anything_ from him, food or not, he’s dead wrong. I’d rather starve then take anything that passed through his hands. I know he’s frustrated now, because he’s doing that thing where he sighs really loudly and glares at me, as if I’m the one being unreasonable here. He places the apple on the little coffee table in front of the couch and walks back over to me.

“Schlatt, I get that you’re unhappy, but there’s really no reason to be. You’re safe, you’re healthy, and you have everything you need here in this room. You just worry too much. Nothing bad is going to happen to you unless you misbehave. So eat the apple already, and stop being such a child. I know you’re hungry, Schlatt. Don’t make me force you to eat it.”

Maybe he’s right. I am hungry. But the exasperation I feel at his stupid little speech overrules my need to eat by a million. Stop being a child? Who, me? Last time I checked, Wilbur was the one who decided to trap me in his basement simply because I didn’t show enough of my precious affection towards him. And I worry too much? Oh really? I wonder why! This situation is not a cause for worry at all, of fucking course not. 

“Was that supposed to inspire me, Wilbur? Do you really think I’m going to accept a single _crumb_ of food from you? Think again, bitch. What if you poisoned it, or put something in it? I’ve heard the story of Snow White, I’m not falling for that disney princess shit.”

Wilbur gently puts his hand on my cheek, and I have to resist every urge to slap it away. I know that’ll just end in more pain for me, and that’s the last thing I need. Instead, I grit my teeth together and glare as hard as I possibly can. 

“I’m insulted you think I could do that to you, Schlatt. I don’t _want_ to hurt you. Of course sometimes I have to, but it’s for your own good. I would never hurt you for no reason, and I wouldn’t ever poison your food. You need to put a little more faith into me. I’m not the devil or anything. I’m not evil.”

“Yeah, well, it sure feels like you are sometimes.” 

He stares at me for what feels like ages, or at least long enough to make me super uncomfortable (thanks for that, Wilbur) then he gets up and before I know what the hell is going on, I’ve gone from leaning against the wall to on the floor with my face against the cold stone in a matter of seconds. I cry out as pain rips through my stomach where the cut is, and I feel his body on my back yanking my arms behind me and tying them with the elbows and lower arms together with a velvety, tight rope. I wrath around like a bull in a rodeo, but he just wraps his legs around my waist tighter and pulls the rope harder.

“I’m sorry Schlatt, but I warned you. If you don’t eat, I’ll have to make you eat. I can’t have you getting sick because you have too much pride or whatever. This isn’t about pride. It’s about trust. Now, you trust me, don’t you?”

I’ve never trusted anyone less in my life. Still, I mutter a weak “sure”, because he’s got me pinned to the floor and this is _so_ not the right time to be starting a fight. He slowly rises off of me, and as soon as I can I flip around and push up off the floor. I do it so fast I lose my balance, but before I trip Wilbur wraps me in a bear hug, keeping me from falling on my ass and losing even more of my dignity. 

I was momentarily grateful (in my head at least), but it’s been a few seconds and he still hasn't let go.

I feel him run a hand through my hair, being so strangely gentle compared to the rough treatment he gave me just seconds ago. It’s as though I’ve turned to glass and he’s afraid he might break me.

“You’re perfect, Schlatt. Absolutely perfect.” He’s murmuring in my ear, so close that every little breath tickles my cheek. “You’re flawless. Even when you mess up, you’re sacred in my eyes. You’re just…exquisite in every little way.”

My mind is screaming at him to _back the fuck up_ , but my body is aching for this gentle touch after only getting pain for so long. I’m desperately trying not to focus on how his soft voice still makes my heart flutter like it did before, despite everything that’s happened since those days. All I can do is freeze and pray he doesn’t notice how my heart speeds up with every word he murmurs in my ear. Luckily, he pulls away soon after that, leaving a soft kiss lingering on my cheek. As a meak act of defiance, I wipe my wet cheek onto my shoulder and make a “that was disgusting” face at him.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Wilbur.” Even to me, the words sound weak and shaky.

Wilbur just laughs.

He pushes me forward until I get to the couch, then shoves me down and snatches the apple from the table. 

“I’m not eating that shit, it’s probably super old! Plus, I don’t even like fruit!”

I know I sound like a whiny brat, but I’m scrambling for any excuse to prevent this from happening. I _really_ don’t want Wilbur’s hand anywhere near my face. He ignores my half-assed excuses and suddenly, he’s straddling me, pinning my arms behind my back and trapping my legs under his. I twist around wildly for a few seconds, but I guess he’s been working out or something because both of us are barely moving.

“No funny business, all right? I know that’s your whole shtick, but it’s just you and me in here and that’s not the game we’re playing today. You’re gonna eat this no matter what, so just make it easy on yourself and do what you’re supposed to.”

“You’re a fucking maniac. You can’t make me do anything.” 

“Oh really?”

He reaches into his pocket, and I can already tell by the telltale glint of metal that he has his knife again. Oh _hell_ no.

Jesus Wilbur, alright! I’ll eat your stupid fruit! Just put the fucking knife away!”

He slowly slides it back into his pocket, cocking an eyebrow and shaking his head as if he’s my disappointed parent telling me off for something. It’s so stupid. Reaching over, he picks up the apple and, still pining me down, brings the blood red fruit up to my mouth. I really don’t want to do this, but I don’t think I’m moving from this position until I do. With a sigh, I look up to the apple. I struggle for a second trying to bite down on it at the right angle without using my hands, but I soon get a good mouthful of it and chomp down.

As much as I dislike Wilbur right now, this apple is damn _delicious._ It’s sweet, juicy, crunchy, basically the kind of apple only the rich kids at school ate. I almost moan (since that’s what people do when they eat amazing food) but I realize at the last second Wilbur will most definitely take that the wrong way. He takes the apple away from my mouth after a few minutes of me biting off the biggest pieces I could, and I can feel juice dripping down my chin. Wilbur is staring at me the way I was just staring at the apple, and I don’t like it one bit. He leans forward, I lean back, but I can only do that for a second until his lips are on mine, kissing me with such passion I almost instinctively kiss back. I stop myself just in time ( _thank christ)_ and instead quickly twist my head around so he’s suddenly kissing the air instead.

He sighs.

“Now, Schlatt, don’t be like that. I mean, don’t you wanna stay upstairs with me instead of living in this little old basement?”

“...what?” Embarrassingly, I find myself whispering the word, but I don’t believe that Wilbur would seriously let me do that. No fucking way.

“Kiss me back everytime I kiss you, and I’ll let you stay upstairs. Come on Schlatt. It’s a great offer. You’re the businessman here, you know all about good deals. So tell me what you want. Tell me I’m right.”

I would rather get out of here than do either of those things, but clearly that’s not an option.

“Fine” I mutter, looking at the wall behind Wilbur. For some reason, I can’t meet his eyes right now.

He leans in, and kisses me with the same fervor as before, but this time, I kiss back. He moves his head down to my neck, running his tongue up and catching the juice that the apple left behind. I look up at the ceiling and try not to make a single noise that would tell him i’m enjoying this, even though I desperately want to. He kisses me again, this time slower and more gentle, running his hands through my hair in a slow caress. I involuntarily relax and as soon as I do, he moves away.

“You see, Schlatt, I’m not the devil. I’ll give you everything you deserve. Some things in life take hard work to earn, but this isn’t one of them. All you have to do is accept me.”

I’m blocking out his usual blabbering, and I just let out a simple “mhm” to try and seem like I was listening. He accepts it (surprisingly) and rises up.

Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we can figure out your living conditions. I promise I’ll stay true to my word if you stay true to yours.”

I don’t answer, but he doesn’t need one. He leaves and I fall asleep into dreams of soft hands and quiet voices whispering sweet nothings into my ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed. I know, this one was longer. Tell me if you prefer shorter or somewhat longer chapters, and of course what you thought about this chapter. :)


	6. Upstairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schlatt finally goes upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry about not updating for a millennium. I kinda thought I wasn’t going to continue this, but hey, quarantine is a great opportunity to get back into those old projects you thought you had given up on. Thank you to everyone who left a kind comment, you guys honestly were the ones who inspired me to continue this. Enjoy!

As much as I hate to admit it, I’m really excited to see Wilbur today. Not for the man himself, of course. He’s still on my list of “Top 10 worst people to ever exist.” No, I'm excited because of this deal of ours, this bright light in an otherwise black world. It’s a glimmer of freedom coming into my life. I keep glancing at the time, going from sitting on the couch to pacing around the room then back to the couch as the minutes go by. Finally, _finally,_ after what feels like a lifetime, I hear him walking down the stairs. I spring up off of the couch, then realize I look way too excited and quickly sit back down again. _Don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing you’re happy, Schlatt. The bastard doesn’t deserve that._ The door swings open and I turn towards him.

“Good morning, Schlatt.”

“Can I go upstairs now, Wilbur?” Wow, tone it down Schlatt, you sound _way_ too eager.

“Woah, I know you’re excited, but hold your horses there. We need to talk about some things first. Then we’ll go upstairs, alright?”

Oh my god, does he have to be so annoying? I want to get out of this basement ASAP and he’s making that real fucking difficult for me. I groan in frustration and he smiles at me.

“Okay, okay, I’ll make it fast. But there are a few rules you need to follow when you go up there. Number one, you’re not allowed in my streaming room. It’s got a lot of valuable stuff in it and I don’t want you breaking anything. I’ll try to keep the door locked but if I accidentally leave it open, just… don’t go in there, got it? Second of all, if I ask you to go somewhere or do something, you need to do it. I could have unexpected guests and need you to leave, or I may just want help with something. No matter what it is, you need to listen to me. Finally, the most important one: Don’t. Try. To. Escape. I have the doors set up so you need a code to open them from either side. If I see any attempts of you trying to leave, there’s going to be consequences. So don’t even try. Just don’t be dumb and you’ll be fine.”

Well, none of that is a shocker to me. Don’t mess with his stuff, follow his instructions, and don’t try to escape. Those are the most basic rules ever. I just want to go up already. 

“Ok, I get it: I’ll listen to you, I won’t touch your _expensive_ gear, and I won’t try to escape. Can we head up now?”

One of those might have been a bit of a lie. I will definitely try to escape, because how could I not? Does he really expect me to be fine with staying in this house with him for the rest of my miserable existence? Hell no. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Yep, we can go now. Well… actually, there's one more thing I need from you first.”

“Oh my god, what? You’re being so fucking annoying right now, Wilbur.”

Wilbur chuckles and walks over to where I’m standing. He stops about a foot away from me and gently puts his hand on my cheek. 

“Kiss me.”

_Fuck._ This is the part of the agreement I didn’t want to have to deal with today. I look at him, suck in a nervous breath of air, choke on my own spit and immediately fall into an aggressive fit of coughing. Wilbur is doubled over laughing at me and when I finally recover a few minutes later, I glare at him with watery eyes.

“You’re a fucking dickhead, Wilbur.”

“You’re adorable, Schlatt.”

“I’m not adorable, I’m a smart, cunning businessman!”

“Sure you are.”

I’m pissed at him, but I know I need to keep my side of the deal. I awkwardly lean in, not sure what to do, but right before I kiss him, I freeze. _What the hell am I doing_? I’m initiating the kiss? This is not what's supposed to be happening. I should not be doing this! This is wrong, on so many fucking levels!

Wilbur looks at me and sighs impatiently, then yanks my shirt towards him and pulls me tightly up against his chest. He wraps his arm around my waist, our lips clash together, and we kiss as passionately as we did on the couch yesterday. I can't help but melt into it, feeling weirdly relieved that he initiated it rather than making me do it. I don’t think I could've kissed him first without hating myself afterwards for “giving in” to him. But this… this is different. When _he_ kisses _me_ , I can pretend I don’t want it, that he’s making me do it and I’m forced to go along with it. But… maybe that’s not true. Maybe in some fucked up way I love the feel of his lips on mine, maybe I want to never stop kissing him once I’ve started, but I can’t admit that to myself or to him. As long as I can keep pretending he’s forcing me to do it, that it’s not because I _might want it too_ , I can stay sane. It’s twisted but it’s true. I just need to keep lying to myself and everything will be fine. 

He pulls away after a few seconds and looks at me with half-lidded eyes, catching his breath.

“You’re a fucking amazing kisser, Schlatt.”

_Don’t say he is too, don’t you dare say it._

_“_ Thanks, it’s one of the many talents of a businessman like me. You’ve got to be skilled in every department if you want to be successful. Now, since I’ve upholded my half of the deal, let’s go upstairs, shall we?”

“Well, aren’t you cocky today. I missed this side of you. Alright, we’ll go up now and I’ll show you around. But you need to take my hand so you don’t get lost. It’s a big house, you know.”

I flip him off but begrudgingly hold out my other hand for him to take. He grabs it and we head up the stairs together into, quite frankly, a whole new world. I’ve seen it before, but the size of this house still makes me gasp a little when I see it again. It’s beautiful. To be fair, pretty much anything is “beautiful” compared to that stone hell-hole I was just in. But this house is truly gorgeous. I can see a garden in his backyard, and the whole yard (which is huge) has a tall fence surrounding it. I wonder if that’s for keeping things out, or for keeping me in. No time to think about it now, because Wilbur’s already whisking me off to different rooms around the house.

“This is the kitchen, maybe if we get bored we can make some meals together. Here’s the bathroom, you’ve already been in here but I figured I’d show you every room again. Oh, and here’s my bedroom!”

This room radiates pure “Wilbur”. His personality, his life, his achievements, it’s all shining through in his room. Before he sends me off again, I notice something on his bookshelf. He’s framed a screenshot of my minecraft avatar and his standing together in front of the building where we did the “Minecraft Talent Show”. Wilbur had sung a song about Squids, and I did a bit where I never finished the jokes I started. Fuck, I wish I could go back to when we recorded that. Everything was so much easier back then. I close my eyes for a brief moment, reminiscing in the memory, before letting Wilbur pull me away to see more rooms. There’s no point thinking about the past. What’s important right now is figuring out any weaknesses in this house so I can escape. ... Right? Right.

“... and this is the music room, where I keep my guitar and piano and stuff, and.. oh! Here’s where I stream on twitch. Like I said, don’t go in here, I don’t want anything getting broken. Other than that, you can go wherever you want. If you want to go into the backyard, ask me and we can go out together. Other than that, the door to the yard will remain locked. So, do you like it? It’s a pretty nice house, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, it’s alright.” 

He smirks at me, and I can tell he saw the way I looked at it when we first came up. I can't really hide anything from him. But hey, one can pretend. 

“Alright, you can go basically wherever you want in the house now. Have fun, and don’t do anything stupid, alright?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” I’m honestly not listening at this point; I’ve already gone off into another room. 

I spend the next few hours wandering around the house while Wilbur gets some work done. As I look around, I notice he has a guest bedroom on the second floor. I wonder if I’ll be sleeping in there. I hope so, because that bed looks way more comfortable than the couch I’ve been sleeping on the last few nights. When I get back down to the kitchen, it suddenly hits me how fucking _hungry_ I am. All I’ve had is an apple in the past few days, and I didn’t get to really... enjoy that. I open up the fridge, and I’m pretty sure my jaw literally drops to the ground like it does in cartoons. He has _so much food._ I don’t even know where to start. I stare into it for a few too many seconds, then finally compose myself and grab everything I need to make a sandwich. I don’t want to make some grand 5 star meal right now, especially since I don’t know where any of his cooking supplies are, so I’ll stick with something more basic for now. I make it, and man, is it a damn good sandwich. 

A few minutes after I sit down to eat, I hear Wilbur walk into the kitchen and rummage around in some drawers. He pours something into a bowl, then opens the fridge and puts something else into the bowl. I'm too engrossed in my own food to look up and see what he’s making. Eventually, he comes up and sits next to me at the dining table. I peek over my sandwich at the food he’s made, and wow, I am judging him _so_ hard right now. While I’m here eating a nice healthy meal, he’s munching on a large bowl of froot loops with absolutely no shame. 

“What the hell are you eating, Wilbur?”

“What does it look like I’m eating? Alright, look, it might not be the most nutritious meal in the world, but it’s much better than what would happen if I tried to cook something. You don’t want to see the results of that, trust me.” 

“You don’t know how to cook? How can you live alone and not know how to cook!?” 

I’m in shock, really, I am. I mean, I wouldn’t call myself the new Gordon Ramsey or anything, but I can make pretty tasty food when I want to. I kind of thought that was a basic life skill, being able to cook decent meals. But apparently Wilbur’s been living off of cereal and take-out ever since he started living alone.

“I just never really bothered to learn. If you’re so passionate about it, maybe you should make some meals for the both of us later on.”

“... I’m not going to do it because you told me to, I’m going to do it because I like cooking and I think you’re going to die young if you keep eating like that.” 

“Sure, if that’s what you want to tell yourself, then fine. Do it because you _like cooking._ ” 

Wilbur has a super condescending tone, and it’s annoying the fuck out of me. I’m tempted to say something that I'm sure will piss him off as revenge, but I decide better of it. Now is not the time to be getting in trouble, not when I’ve suddenly been given so many new opportunities. Instead, I get up and throw a froot loop at him from the box he left out. He tries to catch it in his mouth but it hits his eye instead and he recoils back, clutching his eye and moaning like he’s been stabbed. What a drama queen. I laugh at his obvious overreaction and he glares at me before throwing one back. I don’t try to catch this one in my mouth, I just grab it and crush it in my hand, letting the dust fall onto the marble island I'm leaning on. I’m debating whether to continue the fight or not when a huge yawn suddenly overtakes me. Fuck, I’m more tired than I thought I was. 

Wilbur glances at the time.

“It’s 9pm, I’d say we should be going to bed soon. _You_ certainly sound like you need some rest.” 

“Yeah, that would be nice. I haven’t gotten much sleep lately, it’s starting to take a toll.” I decide to leave out the part where I say that’s his fault. “So, am I sleeping in the guest bedroom upstairs or on one of the couches?”

“Oh, you’re not sleeping on either of those. You’re sleeping in my room, of course. I have a king sized bed, we can both fit on it.”

Of course. _Of course._ Because that’ll make me so comfortable, to sleep in the same room as the person who’s taken me hostage. Yep, I’m sleeping great tonight, boys. This is just fucking _wonderful_.

“Really? Are you sure I won’t be intruding? I might sleepwalk or snore or I dunno, steal all the blankets then fall off the bed and end up suffocating in them and dying.”

I've never sleepwalked or snored before, and the third one just seems highly unlikely, but hey, maybe it’ll make him rethink his decision of having me sleep in his room. I hope so, at least.

“Schlatt, I’ve had to deal with much worse than some snoring and blanket-hogging. You remember the second rule, don’t you? You have to do as I say. And right now, I’m saying we’re going to bed, in my room. Come on, I bought you a toothbrush earlier this week and you can borrow some of my clothes for pyjamas.”

I reluctantly oblige, but not without whining for a few more minutes about how much I hate sharing a bed with someone else. When I go into the bathroom, I find out the pyjamas are just shorts and a tank top, which, to be fair, is what I normally sleep in anyway. Soon enough, we’re both back in his bedroom. He’s lying under the covers scrolling through his iphone ( _I could dial 911 on that, if he ever forgets to bring it with him)_ while I’m standing awkwardly by the door. He looks up when he hears me approach and grins, patting the spot next to him. I groan and miserably shuffle over, then I lie down on my back and try not to glance over at Wilbur every two seconds. After a few more minutes of him scrolling and me staring at the ceiling, he reaches over and turns his lamp off, plunging the room into darkness. The only light is from the window, where the moon is casting a soft glow onto the wooden floor. 

After a few minutes, Wilburs quiet voice cuts through the silence. 

“I know you’re nervous, Schlatt, but please don’t be. You’ve had a rough couple of days, but today was good, wasn’t it? It’ll only get better from here, as long as you follow the rules. That’s not too hard, is it? Just relax tonight. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”

I know I do need to worry, I need to worry about _many_ things, and it’s so funny that he’s telling me I’ve had a “rough couple of days” as if those “rough days” weren’t completely his fault, but I’m too exhausted to respond to his words. Instead, I close my eyes and think about my friends, what they must be thinking right now. Maybe Wilbur told them some lie about me being on vacation, or that I’m taking a break from the internet. He must’ve told them something or surely they would have found me by now. Eventually, my exhaustion catches up and I fall into a deep sleep, filled with dark figures that slip away from me every time I reach for them and a haunting voice that tells me over and over again, “ _You won’t be remembered.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, ok, I know this chapter is a bit fluffier than what this story is used to. I was feeling particularly nice today, sue me. I hope you guys enjoyed it anyway, also excuse any typos as this was written primarily at 2am. You know the drill, comment what you want to see, or comment about anything really. Favourite colour, quarantine activities, you tell me. Thanks for reading! Xx


	7. Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Schlatt, what did he do to deserve this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally wrote this whole chapter in comic sans. I know that’s cursed, I’m sorry. Also, be warned: Schlatt does not have a good time in this chapter. If you want to know what happens in case it might not be something you want to read, see the end of chapter notes.

I wake up early in the morning encased in darkness. Yawning quietly, I groggily turn to the bedside table and read the red glowing numbers on the clock beside me, which tell me something I did _not_ want to know: it’s fucking 4am. Why the hell am I awake at such an ungodly hour? Rolling back onto my back, I try desperately to fall asleep again. I count sheep, I take deep breaths, I try every sleeping trick known to humanity, but after about thirty minutes of this it’s clear that I’m awake for good. Goddammit. I glance over at Wilbur and, as expected, he’s still fast asleep. Wait…. if Wilbur’s asleep, and I’m wide awake, this could be the perfect time to get out of here! If I can do this correctly, I’ll be gone by sunrise, and Wilbur won’t have a clue until he wakes up!

I crawl out of bed with a newfound energy, trying to make as little noise as possible. When I get off the bed, my side springs up a little from the sudden lack of weight and I hold my breath, praying it didn’t disturb Wilbur. Luckily, he still appears to be in his little dream world, so I tiptoe out of the room and close the door softly behind me. Ok, the scariest part is over. Now that I’m out of his room, I can relax a bit. Time for the next challenge: figuring out what the hell my plan is. The windows are locked, as are the doors, and when I was looking around the house yesterday I didn’t see any other means of escape. The only option I can really think of is trying to figure out the code for the doors. Where would Wilbur keep information like that? ….of course. His phone. Which is still in his room, right next to his face. I am so screwed. 

I immediately regret closing the door, because when I open it again it lets out a small creak that sounds like a thunder clap in the silence. My eyes lock on Wilburs lying form, but he still doesn’t seem to be awake. God, this is the most terrifying, risky, stupid thing I’ve ever done, but I know I need to do it. I need to _try_ to escape. There might never be an opportunity like this again, and I know if I stay much longer, some fucked up part of me might not _want_ to escape anymore. I need to do this now **,** while I still have the fight left in me for it. I walk on the balls of my feet over to his side of the bed as quietly as a mouse, nearly forgetting to breathe in my overalert state. I gaze momentarily at his sleeping face. He looks so innocent, and so pure. He looks like the person I thought he was before he kidnapped me. I wish I could still believe that’s who he really is. Now I know it’s all a fucking facade.

I pick up his phone and suddenly something occurs to me. _I can literally just call the police._ Why am I making this whole big plan to search through his phone, find the code, and open the doors when there’s a much simpler option right in front of me? Man, I must still be half-asleep. I mentally thwack myself in the head and find the “emergency call” button on his phone. My finger hesitates over the button for a brief second. Do I really want to do this? What if he finds me? If he catches me after I’ve escaped, I'm done for. But hey, I figure it’s better to have a chance at freedom then to just accept my imprisonment and give up. I take a quiet deep breath before I click the button, but right before I hit it… his alarm goes off. Ohhh, fuck me, I’m going to DIE. 

I flee with his phone in hand as it blasts “Romance is Boring” from its betrayingly loud speakers. As I run, I try desperately to press the snooze button to get this stupid little machine to shut up. After numerous failed attempts of me just punching the screen aggressively, I finally hit it and the phone stops blaring the guitar and vocals so loudly it probably woke up the dead people in the cemetery. But I don’t feel relieved, not by a long shot, because as soon as it stops playing I hear Wilbur yelling

“Schlatt, what the hell are you doing?! Come back here, now!”

Yeah, no fucking thanks, I think I might refuse that offer. I press the emergency call button and dial “911” but before I can hear what the voice says, I’m forcefully tackled to the ground. Wilbur wrenches the phone out of my hands and cancels the call, then throws the phone _(my escape)_ back into his room. All of his weight is on my back and though I’m using every bit of my strength to try and push myself off the ground, he’s not moving at all. He yanks my arms in front me and I yelp in pain, then I feel the cold bite of metal close around both of my wrists. Where the hell did this psycho get handcuffs from?!

“Get the fuck off of me, you asshole! Let me go! I fucking hate you!”

My pleads fall onto deaf ears as he aggressively pulls me up off the ground and slams me roughly against the wall.

“You know, I thought you were getting better, I really did. I gave you _everything you could ever want_ , Schlatt. And what do you do? You try to call the fucking police on me! You know what? You don’t fucking deserve what I’ve given you. I should throw you back into the basement for a week and see how you behave after that.”

No, no, there's no way I'm going back down there. That threat scares the shit out of me and I immediately lose the fight I just had. Instead, I resort to trying to calm him down.

“Fuck, Wilbur, I’m really sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise. Please just let me stay up here with you. I don’t want to be alone down there again!”

He softens a little when he hears me telling him I want to stay here with him, but I can tell he’s still furious at me and my poor escape attempt. 

“Fine, you can stay up here this time. But if you _ever_ try to pull something like that again, I assure you I will leave you down there for a fucking month and only come down to give you food and water. How does that sound? Is that what you fucking want, Schlatt?”

“No, it’s not. I won’t do this again, I swear to god! Just let me go, Wilbur. I’ve learned my lesson, I won’t try to leave again.”

“Learned your lesson? You haven’t learned shit! If you misbehave, I have to punish you. You know that. I won’t leave you in the basement, but that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. Come on, we’re going back to my room.”

He angrily shoves me back down the hall and into his bedroom. My stomach fills with anxiety as he pushes me onto my knees on the bed, threatenly tells me to stay, then goes into his closet behind me. I can’t see what he’s doing but I can hear things clanking together. They sound alarmingly like metal. He attaches something to the handcuffs I have on, then stands on the bed and loops a metal chain through a hook in the ceiling. I can only assume it’s also looped through my handcuffs. If he has these kinds of things in his closet then he’s either way too freaky in the bedroom, or he’s been preparing to kidnap me for a long time. The thought of that makes me feel sick so I focus on the noises around me instead. The scrape of metal, the creak of the bed, the sound of Wilburs breathing; it all comes together to form a haunting melody of dread that makes my heart rise into my throat. He puts cuffs on my ankles as well; like the handcuffs on my wrists, only wider and slightly thicker. He secures these with two chains going to either side of the bed frame so I can’t move my legs. He then pulls up on the chain attached to my handcuffs until my shoulders feel like they’re going to dislocate and I can't keep quiet anymore.

“Wilbur, please stop. You’re hurting me.” I plead, praying to god he actually listens to me for once.

He lowers the chain a bit so my shoulders have a small amount of slack but keeps it taut enough that I can’t move the rest of my body. I suck in a nervous breath of air as he walks back in front me, standing at the foot of the bed. 

“Look at you, finally obedient for once. I wish I could keep you like this forever.”

“Fuck, Wilbur, I can’t-“

“Shhh. Don’t worry, I'll let you go soon. You just have to learn your lesson first.”

He reaches behind me and grabs a blindfold, securing it tightly around my eyes until all I can see is black. My other senses immediately heighten, and I flinch when I feel his cold hand graze across my neck. He chuckles quietly, then I feel him get off the bed and rummage through his closet again. He throws something onto the bed, and I hear his footsteps coming back. I can only assume he’s standing in front of me again. 

  
“Remember, this is a punishment, and it’s going to hurt. But you deserve this and you know it. This is what you get for completely disobeying the rules, _my_ rules, that you fucking promised me you would follow.”

A few seconds pass and the fear and anticipation of what's to come only gets stronger and stronger. What the hell is he going to do? I’m afraid to speak in case it gets me into more trouble, but I desperately want to scream at him to let me fucking go. I want to run away from all of this and never look back, but I can’t move a muscle. 

I get lost in my thoughts for a few seconds, but I’m jolted back to my oh-so-wonderful reality when Wilbur touches me again. His hand is trailing down my shirt, undoing the buttons until he gets to the bottom. He pulls it off and I hear him throw it to the side. Fuck, I can’t stand this suspense, it’s making me feel sick. 

“What are you going to do?” I ask, trying to hide the panic in my voice.

“Oh, just a little something to make you think twice if you ever decide to try and run away again.”

“Wilbur, what the _fuck_ does that me-“

Before I can finish my sentence, I feel something softly graze against my stomach. Startled, I jump back, yet of course I barely end up moving at all. The material pressing against my skin feels soft and tough, almost like leather. But leather...Wait. No. No fucking way. This can’t be what I fucking think it is. 

“I’m going to hit you ten times, and you need to count them; then I’ll let you go. Honestly, you should be thanking me. I could make it _so_ much worse for you, but I think this will get the message across just fine. Think you can do that for me, Schlatt? Can you count to ten?”

I open my mouth to say “No, I definitely _can’t_ do that, you absolute fucking maniac” when the first strike hits my chest out of nowhere. I cry out as sharp, piercing pain burns into my ribs and chest, and I have to grit my teeth to keep from pulling too hard away from it and hurting my shoulders. It feels like the whole area surrounding where I was hit is burning up, and a fire is alight right where the leather met my skin. 

“Now now Schlatt, don’t make me add on an extra hit. What did I _just_ say you were supposed to do?”

_Fuck,_ I forgot to count. I don’t even think I can do ten, let alone more, which means I can’t afford to fuck up the counting.

“One! That fucking hurt, Wilbur!”

“That’s kind of the whole point, princess.”

The belt whips across my back and I cry out again, though this time it comes out more as a desperate scream. He’s landing on the muscles and bones rather than the fat, so everything feels a million times worse and it’s making my whole back light up with pain. Of _course_ he has to make it as agonizing as possible. Why did I ever fucking consider staying here with this psyco?

“Two, you fucking bastard!”

“I’ll allow the names for now because of the situation, but I really would prefer if you called me something nicer. You know, like ‘sweetheart’. Or ‘honey.’ But I guess we’ll work on that later.”

If I wasn’t blindfolded, I’m pretty sure the pure hatred and loathing in my eyes would burn a hole straight through his head and kill him instantly. At least, I really fucking hope it would. 

He hits me four more times across the back and though I make sure to count, I always call him the worst insult I can think of while doing so. It’s probably not helping my case but at this point my whole back just feels like a wall of pure pain, so I can’t tell if he’s hitting me harder or not because of it. Finally, just when I feel like I won’t have any skin left on my back for him to hit, he moves to my stomach. The first lash makes me let out a choked sob, but by the second one I realize these don’t hurt as much as the ones on my back; there’s not as many muscles or bones in this area. But they completely knock the air out of my lungs and I can barely get out the words I know he’s waiting to hear. By the time I get to eight, I’m struggling to get any air in at all and I desperately try to signal to him that I feel like I’m about to fucking pass out. I end up just violently shaking my head but he seems to get the message, because I hear the belt hit the bed with a soft thump.

“Fine, let's take a little break. Catch your breath, alright? It’s okay. You only have two more to go and then this’ll all be over.”

I wish I could scream at him that it’s _not_ okay, and it also won’t be “over” after this, because I’m still stuck here with him and he’s fucking crazy, but all I can do is gulp down air fevourisly and try to savour the short break from pain as much as I can before he hits me again. After a minute of wheezing like an old man with asthma who just ran a marathon, I finally catch my breath. I’m tempted to keep pretending I’m still out of breath so Wilbur doesn’t start the punishment again, but my shoulders are starting to go numb and I know I should just get the last two over with as soon as possible. 

“Okay, I’m ready, so hurry up and get it over with” I spit out, though there are so many other things I want to say to him right now.

“If you say so.” He calmly replies.

The next one lands on the side of my stomach near my ribcage, and for some reason this one hurts like a _bitch._ I lurch to the side and desperately sob out a mixture of the word “stop” and “please” which ends up sounding a bit like “slease” and he has the _audacity_ to fucking _laugh_. I want to tell him he’s insane for laughing at my pain, because he fucking is, but instead I just take a deep breath and keep counting.

“Nine, you devil incarnate.”

The last hit doesn’t land on my upper body like the rest did. Instead, it lashes into the back of my thigh. This time I actually do scream in pain, it hurt _so much_ more than the last few have. It feels like someone just stabbed my thigh with a fucking knife. 

“Ten, you piece of shit! Now let me go, you promised you would!”

“I suppose I did. But first, do you _swear_ that you’ll never try and escape again?”

“Yes! I swear, okay? My shoulders have gone fucking numb, Wilbur, I need to get out of here.”

Finally, _finally,_ he unlocks the cuffs and takes off the blindfold. I want to scramble out the door and just be _alone_ for a while, but my body hurts so goddamn much that all I can do is flop down on the bed and groan. I watch Wilbur walk out the door and for a few seconds I’m blissfully by myself, until he comes back in with some water and a granola bar like he’s the fucking messiah of aftercare or something. Still, I figure some water and a snack would make me feel a hell of a lot better than I do now so I snatch them from his hands and start chewing them angrily. After the snack I feel a tiny bit stronger, and that’s really all I need. I stand up, keeping my best poker face to seem like I’m not in pain at all (even though my whole upper body is in complete agony) and stomp out the door, slamming it closed behind me. Luckily, he lets me walk out without saying a word. If I have to see his fucking face or hear his voice anymore today I think I’ll go crazy. I need some time by myself for a while. 

The only place I figure Wilbur won’t go into today is the guest bedroom, so I take hostage there and bury myself into the soft sheets of the bed. I never want to leave the protection of these blankets; I never want to look at his face again. I know that even if he lets me sleep here tonight, I’ll just have to face him again tomorrow, but I don’t want to think about that right now. My body is drained and my mind is exhausted. It only takes a few minutes for me to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep, as the clock on the wall slowly counts the seconds until I have to wake up and face this hell all over again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re here to know what happens in the chapter: basically Schlatt is tied up and hit with a belt. It’s not that bad, but definitely not PG-13.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, I know it was just a bit more violent than the last one was. If you hated it let me know, if you loved it, again, let me know. Also, I absolutely love reading your comments so please don’t be shy to post one.


	8. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains smut so don’t read if you aren’t interested in that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been in my drafts for MONTHS and today I finally decided to bite the bullet and write the smut all in one go. This is my first time writing smut, so please take pity on me if it’s bad lol.

The light shining in through my window makes me want to pull the sun out of the sky and lock it somewhere dark and far away from me. It’s golden rays are landing directly onto my face, so I'm forced to close my eyes as I stumble out of bed and onto the hard floor. As soon as my feet hit the wood it hits me how exhausted my body is and I groan in frustration. I got a good night of sleep for once and I _still_ feel like shit. Well, I suppose it's slightly better than the state I was in yesterday, if I’m talking physically. The sharp pain in my upper body has faded into a dull throb that only hurts when I move too fast. Still not great, but definitely an improvement. Mentally, on the other hand, I feel like jumping off the face of the earth and disappearing into the void below. It’s just now hitting me how stuck I am here, until either someone comes to help me or some sort of miracle happens and I manage to escape on my own. At this point, things are looking pretty hopeless for poor old Schlatt. But I’m not giving up. I don’t care if I die trying, I’m getting out of here eventually. I have to. Because the other option is giving in, and I can’t bring myself to ever do that. Not after everything that happened yesterday. No fucking way.

As I stretch and find some decent clothes to put on, my stomach lets out what I can only describe as a choir of angry, roaring lions. I figure it’s trying to tell me I should get some food in me. I peer out the door, which is honestly more instinctual than for any actual reason, and once I see the coast is clear I quietly walk downstairs and approach the kitchen. I’ll probably see Wilbur there but you know what? Fuck it. I’m hungry. As I get closer to the door, I hear a kettle begin to whistle. The high pitched sound lasts a few more seconds until it finally decrescendos and I hear the sound of water being poured into a glass. So Wilbur _is_ in there, as I thought. I stand outside of the entrance for a few more seconds, trying to summon the mental energy to talk to this bastard again, until I finally just bite the bullet and step into the room. He must hear my footsteps coming up behind him because without turning around, he begins to speak to me.

“Good morning, sunshine. You feeling any better today?”

God, I just entered the room and I already want to murder him. But I manage to swallow my annoyance for the time being; I’m fucking hungry and nothing he says is going to keep me from my breakfast. Instead, I completely ignore him. I don’t even glance at him. I go straight to the fridge and start preparing some eggs and toast. He can talk to me all he wants but I’m not going to acknowledge his presence in the slightest. As I grab a frying pan and start heating up my eggs, I can feel his eyes burning into the back of my head. He’s watching my every move, probably trying to figure out why I’m acting like he’s invisible. Good. Let him wonder, I don’t give a shit. I hope this is frustrating him. I hope it’s annoying the _hell_ out of him. Maybe then he’ll get a sense of how I feel everytime I have to see his face or hear him say bullshit like “good morning, sunshine”, as though yesterday never happened, he didn’t kidnap me, and we’re just two buddies having breakfast together.

I sit down at the table and begin scarfing down my food as quickly as possible. Mainly because I’m starving, but also because I want to avoid being in the same room as Wilbur as much as I possibly can. I hear him sit down too, and of course he chooses the seat opposite me so he can stare at me some more. I ignore him and keep eating. He doesn’t deserve my fucking attention. 

“Schlatt, why are you ignoring me?”

I keep eating.

“Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s going on inside your head.”

I take the last bite of my eggs and stand up, making sure to push my chair in the most obnoxious way I can. He stands up too and follows me as I put my dishes in the sink and walk out of the room. I’m not sure what my next course of action is, but I figure whatever will make him leave me alone is good enough for me. The only place I know he won’t follow me is the bathroom, so I walk into there and slam the door behind me. He doesn’t follow me in, but I’m sure he’s waiting outside the door, waiting for me to come out again. I know I can’t keep up this silent treatment forever, but it feels good to be in control of something for once. It’s not like he can _make_ me talk. He can’t go into my brain and tell it to say something. So I’ll keep this up for as long as I possibly can, at least until I get into a situation where I have to speak, for whatever reason. 

Since I’m in the bathroom, I decide to take a nice long shower and shave off the weird sideburns my face decided to grow in the last few weeks. When I’m done all that, I look in the mirror, and I realize I finally look a bit like _myself_ again. I look well-put together, which hasn’t happened since I got to this house. It feels good, like I’ve gotten a piece of myself back, despite everything Wilbur has taken away from me. After staring into the mirror for a few more seconds and thinking about the mess I’m in, I decide I might as well go outside again. I can’t stay in this bathroom forever, and plus it’s really steamy in here from the shower I had and I’m starting to find it hard to breath. Slowly opening the door, I see my suspicions were correct. Wilbur was sitting on the floor across from the bathroom door, but he jumps up when he sees me.

“Schlatt, you were in there for an hour! What’s going on with you today? Why are you giving me the cold shoulder? Are you sick? If it’s about yesterday, I’m sorry, but you did try to escape and I couldn’t let that slide. You know that’s one of the rules. Just talk to me already. I miss hearing your voice. You have to talk eventually, you know.”

There’s a desperate undertone in his voice that makes me feel more powerful than I have in weeks. He’s asking me for something, rather than the other way around, And I have the power to keep it from him. So of course, I do. I walk to the stairs and go back up into the guest bedroom, completely ignoring his whining voice trailing after me. Wilbur follows me upstairs like a lost puppy, and even when I close the door in his face, he doesn’t wait outside like last time. Instead he opens it and walks in, then closes it back up softly behind him.

“Listen. I don’t know what game you’re trying to play, but it needs to stop. If you keep ignoring me like this, I’ll have to do something about it. I gave you space all morning, but it’s gone too far now. I know you don’t want a repeat of yesterday. And truly, I don’t don’t want to have to hurt you again. But this silent treatment has to end. That’s an order.”

I don’t answer him out loud. Instead, I grab a pen lying on the bedside table and start writing on one of the sticky notes that was up here when I came in.

_You try to pull yesterday’s stunt, and I’m never speaking to you again._

He reads it and let’s out a frustrated sigh. 

“Then what do you want me to do, Schlatt? What do I have to do for you to start talking to me again?”

I don’t warrant that with a response, because I’m sure we both know the answer. The only thing he can do is let me go, and that’s something he’s definitely not going to do out of his own free will. I don’t look at him but I can feel his eyes on my face, staring at me like he’s trying to figure something out. I just put on my best poker face and stare at the wall until he stops.

“You know what? Fine. If you really don’t want to speak, why don’t I make it a little easier for you? Don’t move, I’ll be back in a second with some stuff to... _help you out_ with this vow of silence you’ve taken. 

As soon as he leaves the room I’m up on my feet. The desperate undertone I heard before is gone and it’s been replaced by something much more menacing. I don’t care that he said not to move. If he thinks I’m just going to sit here like a pig waiting for slaughter, he’s fucking wrong. But by the time I get to the door he’s already back at the top of the steps, holding a bag filled with god knows what. We lock eyes for the first time all day and it quickly turns into a childish glaring match, where neither of us take our eyes off the other. I’m doing it for my personal safety, he’s doing it to make sure I don’t try anything. As he comes towards the door I realize I’ve got nowhere to go, so I’m forced to back up into the room again to keep him from getting any closer. My eyes never leave his as he slowly approaches me.

“I thought I told you not to move, Schlatt.”

I just keep glaring at him and backing up until I hit the bed behind me. Ok, _fuck_ , lets evaluate our options here. I can try to run, I can fight back, or I can give up. Obviously I’m not giving up, and I don’t think running will do me any good, so the second option is looking like my best bet right now. With newfound determination I swing my fist at him, and I guess he wasn’t expecting it, because I collide with his face _hard_. He yells and takes a step back, and I take that as an opportunity to try and land a few more hits. But this time, he’s a bit more prepared, and as he dodges my hand he kicks at the back of my leg, making me trip and lose balance. Well, if I’m falling I’m fucking taking him with me. We both tumble to the ground and it becomes a blur of fists as we both try to get hits on the other. He lands a strong punch to my stomach and I instinctively double over, groaning in pain. He uses this to get on top of me, pinning my arms above my head in an iron grip. 

“You know, I’m starting to think you’re _trying_ to piss me off. Do you like it when I’m mad, Schlatt? Well lucky for you, it fucking worked. Now, don’t you want to see all the _presents_ I brought for you?”

Who is this guy, Santa Claus? Why is he saying “presents” like they’re things I’m going to actually enjoy? I can say for certain that whatever happens next is not going to be something I’ll like. But I’m sticking to my silence. He can’t intimidate me into talking, I refuse to give him that privilege. He pins my legs down with his own and keeps one hand on my wrists as he digs through his mystery bag of “ _presents_ ”. 

“Close your eyes.”

Yeah right, as if I’m going to do that. I need to see what he’s brought up, for my own safety and wellbeing. I stare at him as innocently as possible, trying to make him take pity on me and let me see what he’s doing. He glares back at me. 

“If you don’t close your eyes in the next five seconds I’ll throw you back in the basement for a fucking week. Close your eyes, _now_.”

Okay, no way I’m letting that happen. I can tell from the look in his eyes that he’s serious about his threat, so I slowly shut my eyes until there’s only a small sliver of light coming in. I try to keep my eyes open a tiny bit, but from the angle I’m lying at I can’t see what he’s doing unless my eyes are open more. _Dammit_. After a few seconds of listening to him rustle around in his bag, the sound stops and the hand on my wrists tightens a tiny bit as he pushes himself up closer to me. 

“Open your mouth.”

“Fuck o-“

Before I can finish my sentence, I’m rudely interrupted by Wilbur putting something in my mouth and securing it with a strap around my head. Did he just _gag_ me? I thrash my head around and try to remove it but despite my best efforts, it doesn’t budge. Whipping my head around to face him, I yell out a string of profanities that end up sounding like verbal keyboard smashing. It's definitely not comprehensible but I’m sure he knows what I was trying to say from the pissed off expression on my face. He laughs at me.

“I guess your vow of silence is over, then?”

_Shit_. In my panic I completely forgot about that. Well, I guess it doesn’t matter at this point, it’s not like I can say anything anyway. Wilbur flips his leg over my waist so he’s straddling me, pining my legs down with his own. His hand is still securely on my wrists, which is incredible considering how much thrashing I’ve done in the past few minutes. Just how strong _is_ this guy? I glare up at him but it doesn’t phase him; we both know he has the high ground in this situation. Now it’s just a matter of what will happen next. 

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you that if you play with fire, you’re going to get burned?”

I growl at him and once again start a chain of unintelligible swear words that would make a sailor blush. He ignores me and reaches down into his bag, pulling out a cord of nylon rope and tying it tightly around my wrists so he can free the hand that was holding me down. With his now unoccupied hands, he stands up and yanks me up with him. Now that we’re on equal footing, I try harder than ever to fight him, but without a moment's hesitation he shoves me down onto the bed. I’m in the exact same position as I was before on the floor, except now I have a pillow under my head. _Great_. Using the rope again, he ties my hands to the bedpost and puts his weight on my legs so I can’t move. That doesn’t stop me from desperately trying. Well, I _was_ trying, until I feel him lean down and softly nibble on my ear. It completly catches me off guard and I gasp. I was expecting him to start whamming punches down at me, not _this_. I let out a quiet breath and turn my head away. I don’t want him to see my face; it’s already going red from uncontrollable blushing. He threads his hand through my hair and turns my head so our eyes meet, then leans down. 

He unties the gag but before I can say anything, our lips connect and we kiss in a heat of unspoken anger and desperation and _lust_. I want to hate it, I want to hate _him_ , but instead for some fucked up reason I can feel myself getting hard. _Why am I enjoying this?! What kind of messed up guy gets aroused by their kidnapper kissing them?_ The self-loathing thoughts shroud my mind in darkness and I physically shake my head, trying to get both the thoughts and Wilbur’s lips away from me. As soon as he stops kissing me, he secures the gag around my face again before I can resist. Clearly he just took it off so he could kiss me. His hand is still fisted in my hair, and he pulls my head back as he moves down to my neck. I squirm as he peppers it with soft kisses, but as he moves further down and pulls off my shirt the squirming turns to struggling. 

“Stowp, Welhbur!” (Stop, Wilbur!) I force out through the gag.

“Why should I? It’s obvious you’re enjoying it.” He mockingly replies. Just to further his point he roughly grinds down on me, and I barley manage to keep a moan from escaping my lips.

“Nwo! Thiths isn’t wghat I whanthed!” (No! This isn’t what I wanted!)

“Then what _did_ you want, Schlatt? What did you expect to get out of riling me up? If you want to misbehave, you have to be ready to face the consequences.” 

I don’t know what to say to that, because _I’m_ not even sure what I wanted. Satisfaction? Revenge? Power? Or maybe... this is what I wanted, deep down. Maybe I was trying to wind him up so I could get a reaction like this out of him. The thought scares me, and I try desperately to shove it out of my mind. It doesn’t work.

“That’s what I thought. You wanted me to get angry, you wanted me to do this to you. You can’t deny it, can you?”

The truth crashes down on me and I feel like I'm drowning in it’s merciless waves. My eyes are damp with tears I refuse to let fall; I can’t let him see me cry, especially not now. I mutter out a weak and muffled “no” but I know it means nothing to either of us. Once again I feel his lips on my body, kissing down my chest slowly like he’s savouring me. For the first time, I let myself get lost in the sensation. Rather than drown in the cruel waves of truth, I allow myself to be carried by the overpowering waves of pleasure. They don’t crash down on me; rather they envelop me in their powerful sensation and take me away in their warm hold. I feel hot and muddled, completely and utterly powerless as Wilbur continues kissing down my chest and onto my stomach. I’m almost glad I can’t speak.. in the midst of this pure heat and arousal I'm not sure what would come out of my mouth; probably something really embarrassing. Wilbur unbuckles my jeans and palms my semi-hard erection through my boxers. I buck my hips up, letting out a quiet moan, and he chuckles softly. He continues to palm me through my underwear until I’m fully hard and writhing on the bed, letting out obscene noises I didn’t know I could make. Finally, he pulls off my boxers and I groan in pleasure as he wraps his hand around my cock and starts stroking it. He does everything just the way I enjoy it, and I wonder for a second how he obtained such intimate knowledge of what turns me on. But the thought is quickly pushed out of my head as he speeds up his rhythm and bends down to kiss me again. Enthralled in pleasure, I let out a series of lewd moans and loud cries, though they’re muffled by the gag. 

“Don’t you see, Schlatt? You _need_ me. I’m the _only_ one who can make you feel this good.”

I want to say no, I _don’t_ need him, and I want him to let me fucking go, but the words won't come out of my mouth. Instead I just cry out again and shake my head violently, trying to convey the message I can’t say out loud. 

“You’re a liar.” Is all he replies with, before speeding up his strokes even more, going at a cruelly fast rhythm that makes me arch into the air. I cry out and he watches me writhe below him with dark eyes. I yell one last time as orgasmic pleasure rips through me, and I know I’m cumming but I’ve shut my eyes, as though unconsciously shielding myself from my own shame and Wilbur's eyes boring holes into my body.

When the world comes back into focus, I feel the hot burn of humiliation and with it there’s an overwhelming surge of hate at both myself and the man in front of me. Did I seriously just get off from the hands of someone who kidnapped me? What the _fuck_ is wrong with me? I watch with tired eyes as he gets up and unties my hands. I want to move but my body feels numb, like an unmovable log of useless flesh and bones. I mean, why _should_ I move? This is the guest bedroom, the one place in the house I've adopted as my own. In my eyes, this is _my_ room. Wilbur should be the one leaving. And he does, after he throws me a towel and puts a glass of water beside my bed. Stupid fucking hospitality. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s not like he _cares_ about me. I lazily clean myself off with the towel and throw it on the floor. I’ll deal with it later, for now I just want to sleep.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed it, hated it, have some advice for me, etc etc. I’m definitely open towards criticism, and since I write this story chapter by chapter (aka I don’t really plan ahead) I’m very welcoming to ideas of things you want to see or directions you want this story to go in. I really value the readers opinions :]


	9. UPDATE

I’ve seen a few comments asking me when I plan to update this story again, so I figured I should tell everyone what’s happening. Say You Love Me is on an indefinite hiatus. I know that doesn’t mean much; I could update this in five days, two months, hell, I could never update it again, but it’s the best answer I have right now. As to why, well, I don’t know where this story is headed and I haven’t felt inspired to write it in a long, long time. Maybe I’ll get that inspiration back. Maybe I won’t. But for now, all I can say is it’s on hiatus. Thanks for understanding. I appreciate everyone who takes the time to read this, and everyone who has read Say You Love Me. I know I don’t respond to all of your comments, but I read them, and they really make my day. Thank you. 


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